A Red Sun Rises
by DayStorm
Summary: Soul mates are rare. Contrary to popular belief, not everyone has one. But for those who do; nothing can keep them apart. They will always - always - find each other. (Hey everyone. This story has been put on hold for a while, so that I can focus on my Aliens fic. But feel free to enjoy the four chapters I've written for this. There's an actual story here, not just eye-candy. hehe)


_***It goes without saying that The Originals – the story and all related characters – belong to the writers, cast and crew of the show. I claim no ownership or association to the TV series titled The Originals. This was written by a fan solely for the enjoyment of other fans.**_

**A QUICK WORD FROM DAYSTORM****: **_Hi all! This is my newest story and those who know me already know that I tend to focus on a single fic at a time, putting my thoughts and energy into moving things forward. I write stories, not eye-candy. Haha But see, unlike my previous fanfics I intend this to be more of a "book" than just a bunch of one-shots cut up into chapters. There will be a real story here, with a driving plot and even though there is romance in here the romantic part is not the sum total of this story. Characters will be as true to themselves as I can make them and I've started this with a pretty clear idea of where it's going to end so . . . enjoy!_

**Preface**

**SEVENTEEN MISSING**

* * *

"I care about her survival. I smell war in the air. And with every war,

there is the innocent victim who could have been spared if they had

just walked away."

– **Klaus Mikaelson**

The Originals; S01E08

* * *

I didn't come to New Orleans for any of the reasons people travel to a city like this. I wasn't looking for adventure. I wasn't interested in love or companionship . . . I certainly wasn't expecting to find a reason to stay. To tell the truth, I was only supposed to be here for a few days. A week if I had to, but not longer than that.

There's so much to say. Too much to explain but it feels right to try and work through the events leading up to what came next. My story . . . _**our**_ story, starts with the disappearance a person who should have had nothing at all to do with any of this.

Her name was Erin.

My cousin. A relative not a sibling though that distinction had never mattered to us. We were close. We were sisters of the heart, if not by blood and that part meant so much more than anything else could. Or ever would.

What we had was an odd connection. Being as close as we were, you would think we'd have a lot in common. Things that bound us to each other but Erin and I were actually very different people. She was fearless. To be clear, I was never particularly scared of anything. I was fast. I saw where things were going whereas she rushed right in and dealt with the consequences as they came.

Erin actually lived in the city of New Orleans and though she was a local she was _**not**_ a native. She wasn't born there, having instead moved to the city with her mother shortly after her sixth birthday. They came and just never left. I, however, was born and raised just over three thousand miles away. A long drive . . . faster by plane but even that could get tedious.

A Seattle native, I felt wildly out of my element whenever I was fortunate enough to visit. It wasn't just the unfamiliar humidity or the foreign scents of these streets. History practically bled from the air here. There were days where it felt as if all I needed to do was close my eyes and quiet the mind to hear the echoes of centuries past. Of all the lives that had come and gone.

I was accustomed to spending my summers in New Orleans with my cousin. Hot, hot days spent in shorts and tanks while we wandered through the famous French Quarter or caught a ride into the city proper. It was August, now. Late in the month and though I usually came in July and would go home to spend the rest of the summer holidays with my friends . . . things were different this year.

To be fair, Erin was not the first girl to go missing in the Orleans. She certainly wouldn't be the last. She was the eighth out of seventeen who were gone. Not just girls but boys, too. They were all snatched right off the street in broad daylight. Witnesses everywhere and somehow, no one saw anything.

It didn't seem possible.

I didn't know any of the others who were missing but when my cousin was taken I knew that I_** had**_ to come. Only I never did.

For whatever reason, I stayed in Seattle while other people searched without me. Family. Friends. Hoards of volunteers donating their time and effort into scouring the city and surrounding swamp for the seventeen Missing. No one found anything.

No clues. No signs of them anywhere. There was no explanation for it. Those who were taken seemed to have been wiped from the face of the Earth.

People stopped believing that Erin – or any of those others – would ever be found. There would be a memorial funeral performed to put them to rest. No bodies and they were just . . . I think it was more for the families. They needed someone to give them permission to grieve and heal. To move on with their lives.

I should have been angry. Infuriated by the injustice but to be honest, I could only feel cheated. Indignant, even, on Erin's behalf. I came to attend the funeral of a girl who might have still been alive.

Did they really expect me to say goodbye without ever knowing for sure?

I suppose, if there was ever a reason for me to stay in New Orleans, than that would be it. To get those answers I so desperately wanted. There was nothing else for me in the famed Crescent City. Only the memory of what had happened to Erin and that . . . that was incomplete.

I was going to go home. Back to Seattle where I would try to forget and gradually, I would find it within myself to move forward. To let go and forgive those things I was powerless to change. My cousin was very likely dead and I could not bring her back.

But I guess the Universe had a very different plan for me. I was about to find myself in a place I would never have been if that isn't exactly where I was meant to be. And I wouldn't be alone, there.

_**His**_ name was Elijah and he was . . . he was something else.


End file.
